


Arm's Length

by squirenonny



Category: Cosmere - Brandon Sanderson, Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: 31 Days of Sadfic, CFSWF, Canonical Character Death - Mentioned, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 05:42:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4336094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squirenonny/pseuds/squirenonny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the assassin, after the coronation, after the politics, Navani goes to comfort Jasnah.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arm's Length

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kogiopsis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kogiopsis/gifts).



> “Send my mother my respect. Keep her at arm’s length, Uncle. She bites.”  
> \--The Way of Kings, chapter 28

Two days after the armies left for the Shattered Plains, Navani went to find her daughter.

She hadn’t been avoiding Jasnah, exactly. Stabilizing Alethkar in the wake of Gavilar’s murder had simply consumed her days. Her nights she spent with Elhokar, grieving, or alone and trying to forget.

Now her son was gone, off on Dalinar’s fool Vengeance Pact.

That wasn’t fair. The Vengeance Pact was a very Alethi thing, just what the kingdom needed to hold it together. If anyone else had thought it up, Navani would have been impressed.

But it was Dalinar’s plan. It shouldn’t have mattered, but it did. From Dalinar it wasn’t a calculated move, but a rash decision, born of frustration and bloodlust and guilt. He had been senseless with wine while Gavilar died, and now he thought to redeem himself with a war that would just as likely steal Navani’s son.

Navani shoved such thoughts aside. They were unfair to Dalinar, who was no more to blame for Gavilar’s death than Sadeas, or Elhokar, or Navani herself. She knew that, in the part of her mind untouched by loss, the part that had schemed and blackmailed and wheedled oaths out of the other highprinces.

All the logic in the world couldn’t make her regret Dalinar’s departure. However she felt about him—and that was no easy knot to untie with her nerves frazzled as they were—he was simply too keen a reminder of her loss.

The same, she knew, was true for Dalinar. They had avoided each other as much as possible these last weeks, and with his absence the palace felt less claustrophobic.

Unfortunately Aesudan, Elhokar’s wife, had wasted no time in pushing Navani to the fringe of the court. In short order, she found herself with nothing to do but face her loss or confront the daughter she had been avoiding.

The palace library was not particularly large, not compared to the Palanaeum in Kharbranth or the archives in Vedenar. Alethkar was a nation at war, a nation that had yet to accept itself as a single body. Highprinces collected Shards, not books, and none had yet seen fit to spend precious spheres on a central archive.

Nevertheless, Jasnah had managed to find the most secluded alcove, so deep Navani nearly missed her.

She didn’t look up as Navani took the seat across from her, pushing aside a stack of books that looked to have been ignored since the fall of Alethela. A surreptitious look at the titles told Navani something of the subject of Jasnah’s research: the parshmen, the Parshendi, Vorin histories and anthropological studies of the Unkalaki and Herdazians.

An eclectic mix, though no more than any of Jasnah’s projects. The pursuit of the truth led her down any number of dead-ends that seemed, to an outside eye, unrelated. It would do no good to ask Jasnah her reasoning; she would explain when she found her answers, and not a moment sooner.

“I’m busy, Mother,” Jasnah said politely, not looking up from her work. “Did you not receive my reply?”

“I did,” Navani said. “I chose to ignore it.”

Jasnah lifted her eyes long enough to let Navani know she didn’t appreciate the visit, then shut one book and replaced it with another. Navani didn’t need to see the cover of this one to recognize it; she’d read from it often enough.

“ _The Way of Kings_?” Navani asked. “Didn’t you call that book a _waste of ink and shelf-space_?”

That brought a flush to Jasnah’s cheeks, though the heat didn’t reach her voice. “I’m still not convinced I was wrong, but it’s worth reconsideration.”

Another stack of books, nearly hidden by the rest, caught Navani’s eyes. Jasnah had gathered every biography of Gavilar that had been written, including those penned before he’d discovered the Parshendi. Atop the small stack sat the memoirs Navani herself had scribed.

The sight of it sparked an unexpected surge of pain. So many nights spent taking Gavilar’s dictation. Fondness, exasperation, gentle suggestions worded so as not to offend, often rejected and sometimes inserted anyway in the Undertext.

It hit her now, for the first time, that she would never hear his voice again.

“Your father is not coming back.”

Even as she spoke, Navani wondered who needed to hear the words more—Jasnah or herself. Jasnah’s head snapped up, her eyes flashing with more anger and condescension than hurt. “I know.”

Two words, cool and crisp. Not an accusation, not mockery, not even reproach, but they stoked a storm in Navani’s chest.

In all the weeks since Gavilar’s death, Navani had yet to see her daughter cry.

Only Sadeas’s tale of that night convinced Navani that Jasnah even knew what had happened. Jasnah had been, perhaps, a bit more acidic in her dismissals of late, and her hyperfocus on her research had an edge of urgency Navani didn’t understand. That was all.

It wasn’t healthy, but allowing emotions to rule here would not help Navani’s cause. She sat a moment in silence, letting the pain and the anger melt away.

Once she had control of herself, she started again. “What are you searching for?”

Jasnah gave her a wary look, as though she expected a trap. “Answers,” she said.

It was so very like her to give such a reply with a straight face. Wholly true and wholly useless, but not meant to be coy. Navani suppressed a sigh and looked the books over again, reining in her scattered thoughts.

“The Parshendi,” Navani said, berating herself for not understanding at once. “You’re looking for the reason they broke the treaty.”

“Don’t try to tell me they’re savages,” Jasnah said, returning her eyes and her attention to her notes. “I know you’re smarter than that.”

Navani’s lips pressed firm together, not that Jasnah could see the silent reprimand. “No, they certainly had a reason. Whether we know enough about them to figure it out? That’s another matter entirely.”

“We have parshmen. Their history might shed some light on the Parshendi—assuming, of course, I can find a credible scholar who didn’t ignore them as two-legged chulls.”

“And you, Jasnah? I suppose you have always had this much foresight?” Navani waited in vain for a reaction. Just as well. This conversation was getting off course. “I understand the need for answers, but you can’t let this consume you.”

A dry laugh. “Consume me?” Jasnah set her pen down, steepled her fingers, and met Navani’s eyes. “What would you have me do, Mother? Make a half-hearted effort at bringing Father justice? Set aside his murder because the circumstances are a trifle murky? Shall I return to my previous studies, Mother? Would you rather I devote myself to unraveling an assassination a hundred years past and leave this one to the next generation?”

Jasnah blinked, seemingly surprised by her own vehemence. She snatched up her pen once more, but it hung motionless over her notes.

For her part, Navani was no less startled, but she settled herself and closed her eyes. _Look at what you’ve done to us, Gavilar._ She and Jasnah had always butted heads. They were too similar, or perhaps just different enough to jar. Whatever the case, Gavilar had always had to keep the peace between them.

_Not anymore._

Hesitantly, Navani reached across the table, rested her hand atop Jasnah’s. Jasnah did not pull away.

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Navani paused, searching for the words she’d never known how to find. What upset Jasnah was never what Navani expected—ever since she was a child, Jasnah had sniffed at Navani’s efforts at comfort. Navani had learned to read Jasnah better since then, but she could as well have tried reading Dalinar’s mind.

Jasnah stared at their hands, pen twitching in her grip.

Navani breathed deeply. “You work yourself like you have a debt to repay.”

“I know what you’re digging at.” Jasnah gave her a wry smile. “Shall I start sobbing, Mother? Fall into your arms and tell you all the ways I might have saved him? Would that make you feel better?”

Jasnah’s voice was clear, and she laughed as she pulled her hand out of Navani’s grasp. It was a hollow sound, though, echoing like the pit inside Navani. _All the ways I might have saved him._ Navani would wager a hundred emerald broams that her list bested Jasnah’s.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Jasnah’s grin turned sardonic. “Tell me that again when you believe it of yourself.”

Those words hit their mark. Flushing, Navani stood. The scrape of her chair against the stone floor rang loud in her ears.

“You never would see sense unless you’d reasoned it out yourself,” she said coolly. “Carry on with this project if you must, but know your brother and uncle will kill the last Parshendi before you find your answers. I hope you, at least, find some comfort from your work.”

Sharp violet eyes pierced her through. “I hear Aesudan has arranged a country estate for you. Perhaps you might find your own comfort there, away from the burdens of the real world.”

Navani straightened her spine. She told herself it was the grief. Jasnah was stewing, the pain making her tongue sharper than it would have been otherwise. Navani would not hold it against her, and in a few weeks or months when Jasnah came to her senses, Navani would accept her apologies graciously.

Turning on her heel, Navani strode out of the library without a backward glance. She wished she could so easily leave behind the voice in her ear that whispered _hypocrite_ with each step.


End file.
